


we were born sick, or so they said

by boykingofhell (alloftimeandspace)



Series: Codependency, Winchester Style [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Codependency, Codependent Winchesters, Dean is sixteen, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sam is twelve, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, john is an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alloftimeandspace/pseuds/boykingofhell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>everyone said the new kids were a little too close for comfort, but everyone knows that blood calls to blood</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were born sick, or so they said

Dean Winchester had only been in town a couple weeks, but he was already something of a legend in the school. Despite his feigned indifference and the delinquent façade he carried around with him, he had a crooked smile that came easily to his lips and a light-hearted charm that seemed to keep him out of trouble and make him generally well liked. He never did his homework, but made up for it with apologetic litanies of "sir" and "ma'am" spilled effortlessly from his mouth in a soft drawl that was all honey and just-this-side of Southern, made sweeter by the dusting of freckles sprinkled across his nose and the way he could make his eyes wide and innocent, biting absentmindedly on his bottom lip to seal the image. He had a casual elegance that became rumour; not quite a jock but cut like he trained, _hard_ , pretty enough to have most of the girls and half of the guys tripping over themselves to get a look at the "new kid". And yet, for all the commotion he stirred up, he waded through the halls like a ghost and barely said a word about anything substantial, anything that wasn't casual conversation or aimless flirting accompanied by his signature grin.

There were other rumours, of course. Whispers in the hall about his little brother, their unusual closeness, things that the less spiteful kids dismissed as taunts along the same line as "faggot" or "cocksucker". Dean was all rough edges until it came to his little brother, they said. To _Sam_. His name was Sam, but Dean called him Sammy and ruffled his hair, and no one else was allowed to do either of those things. Sam had a mean streak, they said, had heard that he'd hit another kid for teasing him about Dean, all red faced and stammering. The blow had broken the kid's nose, or so they said. Sam was scrawny and small, but too strong for a twelve year old kid. Or so they said. It didn't seem to matter whether people believed the rumours or not, because everyone stopped to listen eventually. And Dean never seemed to care.

Dean walked his little brother home every day after school, stopping by the middle school to get him and listen to him chatter on as they made their way to The Garage. Dean had a job there, entirely too skilled at fixing cars for being sixteen, they said. Tony was a good guy, allowed Sam some space in his office to do his homework. Dean's little brother, always doing his homework, while Dean never did a bit of his. Sam did homework, Dean worked. That's how it was, they said. No one knew where the Winchesters' parents were. It was rumoured, as with everything else, that the dad had skipped town and left them there, and that the mom had died. But no one knew for sure. Just that Dean made the money and made sure Sam got his education. Everyone seemed to know that they were staying in the cheapest motel in town, but no one knew why Dean wouldn't let Sam stay there by himself, even with the doors locked. Dean was _too_ protective, they said, making a twelve year old kid follow him around like a lost puppy. No one knew that Sam wanted to be near Dean, and that Dean would never forgive himself over that _one_ incident. He wanted Sam close, and Sam wanted him close. But no one knew that, not really.

Some people found it off-putting, the way they were always _touching_. Dean's arm slung around Sam, around his little brother, hand in the back pocket of his ratty jeans, the ones that must have come from someone bigger than him because they hung so low on Sam's bony hips. Sam pressed himself a little too close to Dean's side, wide, childish eyes and pretty pink lips all gentle and just for Dean. He only flushed like that for his big brother, they said. In the room, away from prying eyes and hushed admonishments, they slotted together on the motel beds and kissed messily, mixing boyish grins with Sam's little sighs and the gorgeous noises that Dean could pull from his pretty little mouth. No one but Dean heard those noises, but everyone knew that Sam was Dean's little brother, and that he belonged to no one but Dean. He was possessive, they said, kissing his little brother's forehead like a warning to everyone else, "he's mine" in the most innocent way possible. Glaring at anyone who stared at Sam too long. He was only ever soft with his little brother, they said. Called him _little brother_ when people got too close, so they said.

The Winchesters were in town for a month, before Dean's little brother got sick at school and Dean walked straight out of class to get to him. They said the office sent a slip down with his name on it, but they weren't going to let him leave class. _We'll send Sam home_ , the office said, but everyone knew that the Winchesters didn't have a home or a parent to go home to, and more than that, everyone knew that Dean wouldn't let his little brother be sent back to the motel room alone. Dean didn't say a word, just stood up, slung his bag over his back, and walked to the door. "Where do you think you're going?" the teacher asked, and he looked her dead in the eye for a moment before letting a slow grin creep wide across his face. They said it looked deadly, cold and angry on his lips. "'M going to take care of Sammy," he told her evenly, and left the room. Or so they said.

Dean went straight to the middle school, a block down, and walked into the office without a word. No one questioned it. They'd heard the rumours, knew not to keep Dean from his little brother. Sam was sitting in a little plastic chair looking small and scared, with his head down and his eyes squeezed shut. Dean went to him and knelt down in front of him, tilting Sam's chalk white face up gently with his first finger. There was more softness in that one gesture than in any of his interactions with anyone else, they said. Sam's face flooded with relief and he threw his arms around his brother weakly, pressing his face into Dean's neck, before remembering why Dean was there. He pulled away like he'd been stung, face flushing with shame as he avoided Dean's gaze. "'M sorry, De, I didn't mean to," he mumbled. "You have work and I can't be sick and-"  
  
"Shh, easy baby boy," Dean whispered, rubbing circles across his little brother's back. They swore they'd heard him say exactly that, boarding on too close for comfort. "'S not your fault, Sammy, don't be sorry. Let me do the worrying, kiddo."

Sam only nodded, trusting Dean like Dean was his parent. Or so they said.

Dean stood up and then helped Sam up too, taking Sam's small hand in his own and slinging Sam's school bag over his shoulder. "Man, kiddo, d'you have bricks in here?" Sam cracked a small smile, still looking weak but no longer as upset. Dean announced to the entire office, and to no one in particular. "I'm taking Sam home." They walked out together, and as soon as they were out of the building, Dean picked Sam up and carried him to the motel. So they said.

Dean came back to class a couple days later, and acted like nothing had happened. No one mentioned it, but there were rumours. One of the girls who worked at the drugstore on the corner swore up and down that he'd come in a couple hours after he'd left school and bought Ginger Ale and chicken noodle soup and fever medicine, and paid for it with loose change, counting it out coin by coin. And then he went home and kissed Sam's feverish lips, rough hands soft on Sam's skin as he soothed his little brother. They shared the bed, Sam curled cat-like into Dean's side and radiating heat like the summer sun, but Dean didn't care. After school on the day he came back, Dean stopped by the middle school and walked Sam to The Garage, as usual. Or so everyone said.

The Winchesters were in town for a couple more months before a sleek black car drove in on the main road and parked at the motel in the middle of the night. People swore they'd seen someone get out and knock on the door in an odd, irregular pattern, and that half an hour later, Dean was carrying his little brother (some people swore they saw Sam crying silently) and an armful of duffel bags and backpacks out to the car, with a flash of anger in his eyes, and in the way his mouth was set. He laid Sam down carefully in the backseat and climbed in next to him, pulling Sam's little head onto his lap and slamming the door shut. The car pulled away, and the town never saw them again. _Or so they said._

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr - http://demonblood-boyking.tumblr.com/  
> // currently taking fic requests //


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